


Not Like This

by Cawaiiey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Battle Scene, Confessions, M/M, Mild Gore, bullseye mchanzine piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/pseuds/Cawaiiey
Summary: “Hanzo—”“What is it, McCree?” His voice is strained.“Once we get back, let’s go to the cafe in Gibraltar proper. Wanna treat ya right, Han, if you’ll let me!”





	Not Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all !! This was my piece for the Bullseye mchanzine and, if you've seen tumblr or twitter, the entire thing is going up in flames so I'm posting it along with the rest of the contributors :) I was a part of the "Only Fools Rush In" portion, where Hanzo and McCree are falling in love! I got the confession scene! Please check out starscry for her portion, where McCree realizes he's in love, and Kerfuffle for their portion, which is the first kiss scene ;) !! I hope you enjoy it!

Mission’s going tits-up, McCree realizes, when he hears the familiar sound of a bowstring being released right behind him.

Shit. It sure is going to hell if Hanzo is down in the thick of it. For the sniper to vacate the safety of the rooftops and be close enough for McCree to hear him, they must be fighting a losing battle.

The communicator in his ear rings with sounds of carnage from various points across the battlefield, echoing back his own grunts and gunshots as he fires at the attackers swarming on them from all sides. This firefight has been going on for far too long now. McCree knows he’ll be running low on bullets soon, and he only has a few more flashbangs left now. Gods be damned, McCree has survived worse situations than this. He can do this. They can do—

Searing pain blooms from a point in his midsection as a bullet connects with his stomach.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his unoccupied hand flying down to his waist. 

He takes a step back, staggering, but manages to stay upright. He presses down on the wound and hisses in quiet agony. Doesn’t feel too deep but, if he isn’t careful, he’ll end up bleeding out on the battlefield. And Jesse McCree isn’t about to die like this.

“McCree,” Hanzo calls out, voice strained. “What was that? Are you injured?”

_ Hanzo _ .

Jesse McCree can’t die like this.

Ice pools in his midsection as he shoots an attacker in the face, only for another to appear right behind the first. He’s barely able to put another bullet between that one’s eyes before he has the chance to do the same to McCree. The wound in his midsection is leaking blood in a steady stream down his leg, a warm and entirely unwelcome reminder of how dire this situation is.  _ Fuck _ . He feels someone press against his back, and it’s only the sound of his bowstring that keeps McCree from whipping around to press the barrel of his gun against Hanzo’s head.

“McCree,” he hears him say again, sounding more distant even though he’s closer than before. “I said, are you injured?”

His wound is throbbing. Pain radiates through his whole body and adrenaline courses through his veins, mingling together in a strange mix of ice and fire. Hanzo’s back, pressed against his, even with the quiver between them, is the only thing that grounds him to the moment. That keeps him from succumbing to the dread welling up in his insides. McCree struggles to shoot another attacker, head spinning and heartbeat roaring in his ears. He barely hears the familiar, pained grunt that comes from behind him as Hanzo looses another arrow, but he hears it nonetheless.

Not like this.

“Hanzo—”

“What is it, McCree?” His voice is strained.

“Once we get back, let’s go to the cafe in Gibraltar proper. Wanna treat ya right, Han, if you’ll let me!”

Despite the screams, the gunshots, the grunts and yells of their teammates ringing in his ear through the communicator, Jesse is acutely aware of how quiet Hanzo is behind him. He is focused almost entirely on the archer and not on their assailants, the crowd of which seem to be thinning with every move he makes.

_ Bad move _ .

There's a gun pointed at his temple and an attacker shouting obscenities at him. McCree flinches, staring down the sight. Hesitates. His finger shoots to the trigger of Peacekeeper just as he sees his assailant's finger move to tighten, to fire that bullet and splatter his brains, his thoughts, his feelings, every memory he's ever made in his forty years of living, on the concrete.

Jesse inhales through his nose. The world slows around him. Pinpoints to just himself and the bullet that has his name on it. A long time coming, loaded in a chamber full of his sins, gunpowder made of the ashes of people he’s killed. Jesse thinks of all he’s done. Every instant of his life flashes at him, rapid-fire and unrelenting behind his eyes, though only one really stands out to him, amongst it all. A halo of light amid all the darkness in his past.

_ Hanzo. Hanzo’s face bathed in lazy morning light as they sat together and ate breakfast all those days ago. Hanzo smiling at him, soft and sweet, while the world woke up around them. Hanzo. Hanzo. Hanzo. _

Hanzo didn't know.

Every dead man had regrets, he supposes.

_ Thwip _ . 

The man suddenly crumples to the ground with an arrow embedded in his skull. McCree exhales and the world rushes to catch up with him. 

_ Hanzo _ .

Not like this.

“Now is  _ not _ the time!” Hanzo shouts at him as he turns his head to see the archer’s face. 

He knows it’s probably the exertion that’s making his face that red, but part of him hopes that it’s his words that caused roses to bloom on his cheeks. What a gorgeous sight to see on the battlefield. A spot of beauty in the midst of carnage.

The swarm of people around them seems to be thinning, finally. Hanzo freezes when his eyes meet McCree’s and, if it is possible, he knows those cheeks will flush even deeper. The battle seems to halt around them. Everything slowing to a crawl and fading into the background with Hanzo right there in front of him, and his proposition hanging in the air between them. Even the throbbing pain in his midsection dulls. Not to say that the danger isn’t still present, swarming around them in droves that just now seem to be diminishing. He doesn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to any of it. His eyes are only on Hanzo, who stands there with arrow nocked and his muscles drawn tight, though neither of them make moves to turn back to the fight that rages on around them.

If now isn’t the time, then when will it be? 

McCree’s wound throbs painfully. A reminder. 

_ Will he even have another chance? _

Jesse’s lips are parting and words he’s longed to say are escaping him before he can even realize what he’s doing. 

“Gods above and below, Hanzo Shimada, I am in love with you, and this ain’t gon’ be the last time I tell you, if I can help it.”

As soon as he says it, the world seems to catch back up to them. Hanzo looses an arrow that shoots past McCree’s head and embeds itself in an attacker behind him. From the sound of his gurgling, it must’ve hit him square in the neck. McCree catches sight of movement behind Hanzo. Without thinking, he cocks his gun and fires a bullet between the would-be assailant’s eyes. Hanzo glances up at him with a tense smile, appreciation evident in those deep brown eyes of his. He pulls his last arrow from his quiver just as Jesse upends the chamber of empty casings and loads it with another six bullets faster than the eye can see.

McCree points his gun over Hanzo’s shoulder just as his archer notches the last arrow and aims it over McCree’s left shoulder. Their eyes lock. The world contracts to a pinpoint once more. 

McCree watches the corners of Hanzo’s perfectly-arched Cupid’s bow lips tilt up into a smirk. 

“If we are to go on this date, then we must get out of this…” 

That smirk grows into a grin, big and beautiful enough to stop a grown man in his tracks—or a gunslinger’s heart in his chest. Hanzo’s smile is enough to make McCree forget about the insistent pain radiating from his side, the blood that’s flowing down his stomach and leg in a heavy stream, the lightheadedness that’s starting to make him dizzy. He barely catches the tail-end of Hanzo’s sentence as his head starts to swim. 

“ _ …alive _ .”

McCree returns Hanzo’s grin, though his heartstrings tug and his pulse jumps. He doesn’t say it. Doesn’t give voice to what he’s thinking. Doesn’t let the ice in his veins weigh him down. He just nods at his archer and flicks his thumb up to pull the hammer back. Hears the click and feels the familiar burn starting behind his left eye. Hanzo’s tattoos swirl on his exposed arm, coiling and jumping in brilliant electric blues, energy both beautiful and terrifying slithering down his body and around the bow and arrow as if they’re extensions of himself. 

_ Alive _ . 

God damn it, he can’t promise that he can, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try. 

The world slows and turns to sepia as he shouts familiar words that can be heard even over the destruction surrounding them, mingling with Hanzo’s roar as he summons the beasts that lie in wait beneath his skin. 

“ _ It’s high noon… _ ”

“… _ Ryū ga waga teki o kurau! _ ”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd like to give a special shoutout to Adolphus Longestaffe, who edited everyone's pieces for the zine! She's lovely and she is a big reason why I'm confident in my writing! I hope everyone has a wonderful day and thank you for supporting us through this tumultuous situation.


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